


Mirage

by Minervas_Revenge



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Character Death, F/M, Wizengamot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-31 01:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19415962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minervas_Revenge/pseuds/Minervas_Revenge
Summary: It all started when Hermione made a deal with Lucius Malfoy. (This is the expansion of my shorter fic, 'Acceptance.')





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in February of 2010 and posted on Granger Enchanted. A combination of several issues led to the loss of half of Chapter 3 and the epilogue. I remember them clearly and intend to do my best to rewrite them. Posted for a dear friend who requested it. <3 Aleysia Snape.

Hermione Granger caught and held Lucius’ interest when the Wizengamot, almost unanimously, defeated her House-elf Protection Act. The witch retained a calm dignity even as two notoriously malicious witches tittered behind their hands. She betrayed no emotion other than concentration on the agenda.

The witch should have waited until more members had seceded to the younger generation before presenting something so progressive. Or she should have manipulated votes the traditional way: through lies, bribes, and blackmail.

She caught Lucius staring and stared back, her expression demanding the reason for his gaze. Amused, Lucius teased her with a suggestive wetting of his lips. The witch’s eyes went wide and he saw her breathing catch and then go shallow. She looked away and then glanced back at him with a severe frown. If they weren’t in the middle of a full court, Lucius would have thrown his head back and laughed. 

As it was, Lucius followed the Wizengamot proceedings only out of habit; his mind was suddenly contemplating the many ways to exploit the bleeding heart and obvious physical interest of Ms. Hermione Granger, the newest, youngest, and most scandalous member of the Wizengamot.

~*~

The repellant charm on the witch’s office would have been successful except that Lucius used a similar spell on his own office. He banished the magic along with the locking charm and knocked as he opened the door.

“May I come in?”

The Muggle-born witch appeared to be fretting when she looked up, face covered in shock.

“Why bother asking?” she huffed, gesturing at the rickety chair opposite her desk.

Lucius took his time entering her office, glancing at the news clippings on her wall and transfiguring her hideous chair into something worthy of holding him. When he finally turned his attention to her, he had to hide a smile; she was obviously impatient with his leisurely appraisal of her space.

“Care for some advice?” he asked, habitually stroking a gloved finger back and forth over the cool metal snake’s head on his cane.

He noted that her glance kept darting hotly to the movement of his hand. Influencing the witch would be almost too easy; but no less enjoyable. Typically, there would be little satisfaction in seducing a witch so easy to read; however, Lucius curiosity was piqued. Did she know that she was serving herself to him on a gold platter?

“That depends on what you want in return,” she said in a thick voice.

“Now, _that_ is the correct way to approach business in the Ministry.”

“Oh?” she asked, offended.

Lucius lifted a brow. “Shall I take my experience elsewhere?”

The little witch frowned and Lucius thought the expression quite attractive on her; the lines of her brows drew together and her lower lip pouted, inspiring thoughts of quite another sort.

“No, but - please don’t misunderstand this - why would you offer me advice?”

Ah, so that was it. She wanted to have The Conversation immediately. He should have anticipated that, knowing something of her logical personality.

He grumbled wordlessly, settling deeper in his chair. He did not relish the idea of telling the truth; knowledge was a weapon. However, the truth was necessary to win the witch’s confidence. Besides, she wouldn’t expect it and he’d have the advantage of surprise. Not to mention, she’d respect him for speaking the truth.

“Typically, I would lie to that sort of question,” Lucius drawled. She ought to know the value of his confession. “I was an _unwilling_ disciple of the Dark Lord.”

Lucius noted that while her expression did not change, the witch’s gaze softened.

“He controlled me through threats to my family – as he did many.” Lucius caught himself massaging the snake’s head again and sighed. It was difficult to speak such history aloud.

Hermione opened a desk drawer and pulled out a slim bottle that Lucius recognized as Old Ogden’s. She summoned a couple of glasses from a shelf behind her and poured a finger into each, scooting one towards Lucius.

“This is a moment for hard liquor, isn’t it?” she asked with a sardonic and patronizing grin.

Lucius blinked. The little witch knew exactly what he was doing. She _knew_ that he was going to manipulate her through empathy. For a split second, he felt panic but it passed quickly. Just because she knew she was being manipulated didn’t mean it wouldn’t work.

“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t think Muggle-borns are inferior wizards?”

“Why, yes,” Lucius said with a humorless smile.

Hermione’s second sip from her glass emptied it and she gasped into her arm as her throat burned with the swallow.

“Right,” she breathed. “So why have you decided to grace me with your wisdom?”

The witch wanted to dismiss Lucius’ past with so little discussion? That suited him fine. He sipped from his glass, noting that her posture had relaxed.

“Naturally, I want something in exchange. That is the way of the world.”

“Is it?”

Hermione grinned and Lucius was surprised to realize that he liked her like this. She was approachable and aroused his curiosity. He hadn’t relished a witch’s company in years. If he were a decade younger, he might act on it. Of course, she had shown interest in him that way…

Lucius slipped into a seductive mood, unable to help it. His finger delicately traced the lip of his glass. “Let’s say I support your House-elf Protection Act… What might that be worth to you..?”

The witch’s color had risen and her cheeks were a lovely shade of pink. She tugged at the collar of her robes and seemed to have developed a permanent curl to her lips.

“Why don’t you just tell me what you want?”

“Tsk, Ms. Granger. You shouldn’t rush meetings – particularly when they’re going so well,” Lucius purred.

The witch looked down at the glass in her hands and stole a heated glance at him through her lashes. She was brimming with deteriorating inhibition.

The tiny flicker of desire in Lucius fanned brighter; she wasn’t just susceptible, she was returning his subtle signals.

“I will back your legislature if you agree to meet with the press about it. I bring more than half of the Wizengamot to the table.”

“Meet with the press? You want it known that you’re ba- associating with me?”

“Precisely.”

After a silence filled by a gauging stare and lingering sip of whisky, Hermione absently tapped her wand on the desk and spoke. “You do know that one article won’t erase your association with Voldemort,” she said, toying with her empty glass.

“Let’s start with one article and one dinner in public – strictly professional,” he added as her eyebrows rose.

“You support the law, I suffer an interview with a journalist, eat one dinner with you in public and that is all?”

“It’s a beginning.”


	2. Chapter 2

Lucius remained politely silent as Hermione expounded on the abuse of house-elves to the _Prophet_ reporter. The reporter, Robert something, listened but wrote nothing. He was there because Lucius had paid him to be. In her passion, the little witch didn’t seem to notice.

It had taken only a couple of days for Lucius to brew and distill a plan for exploiting Ms. Hermione Granger. It was a weak plan but that was the way he wanted it. He was counting on her to see through the flimsy one and, therefore, overlook his true intentions.

Once Hermione wound down, the journalist suggested a few pictures with the Minister and Lucius led the way to Kingsley’s office. Only when he posed beside her did Lucius appreciate how petite the little witch really was. The top of her head barely reached his shoulders. He supposed that her powerful presence created the impression of someone taller. She glanced up at him with a grin of exasperation and certainty. Yes, she suspected Lucius of having a scheme.

“Fine, fine,” the photographer said. “Now if I could get just Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy…”

Kingsley stepped aside. Hermione held her hand out and grinned. Did she think he wouldn’t take it? Without flinching, he grasped her hand.   


The photographer shuffled them closer together, “Like you’re friends – there we are.”

  
Hermione returned Lucius’ professional, pleased smile while the camera snapped. In truth, Lucius _was_ pleased. Hermione wrinkled her nose as if sensing that Lucius’ pleasure was genuine. Was it at all odd that Lucius was as amused by her as she was by him? Was it at all odd that he was finding her distressingly endearing? He needed to clear his head before dinner.

  
While the journalist was packing up his equipment, Lucius nodded farewell to Hermione. “I look forward to this evening. Good day, Minister.”

Lucius loitered outside the Minister’s office long enough to overhear Kingsley question Hermione about his comment. The witch replied that it was just dinner and pointedly excused herself. Lucius smiled in the darkness of a corner. She was learning.

~*~

Throughout dinner, Lucius caught himself staring at the little witch’s mouth. He was fascinated with the way it curled like a cat’s at the corners. Were her lips as soft as they appeared?

Dinner was eaten and they were lingering over wine when Lucius asked how Hermione felt when she learned that she was a witch. She regarded him silently for a few moments before finally replying and he knew that he should have asked sooner. Her animation was infectious and all pretenses fell away. Lucius found himself enjoying a conversation like he hadn’t in years.

After an hour, Lucius could no longer properly prolong their dinner and offered to walk Hermione home. She accepted. Her arm was a pleasant weight on his as he escorted her through Diagon Alley. Fog rolled through the streets, hiding them from other strolling couples; Lucius had to remind himself that he had a plan and it was progressing nicely.

He realized he’d gone suspiciously silent when he caught the witch peering at him as they strolled. He gestured at a block of shops ahead of them and regaled Hermione about how they were the first shops in the Alley and how the rest sprang up around them.

The witch stumbled and Lucius caught her, saving her from a graceless fall. He held her arms a moment longer than proper as she blushingly thanked him. Something hot and sweet darted through Lucius - something he hadn’t felt in a long time: stinging desire. The little Muggle-born was inciting all sorts of forgotten and startling sensations in him and Lucius was losing focus.

They soon reached her building and Hermione turned to face him, looking confused. Lucius was grateful that he was not alone in feeling bewildered. He closed the distance between them, testing the witch’s reaction. She allowed him quite near despite the uncertainty in her eyes. When he moved as if to embrace her, she finally stopped him with her hands on his forearms. He disregarded her gesture and leaned in. He wanted to feel her petal-like lips part under his.

Just before his mouth reached hers, she drew a shaky breath and he met her gaze. She was more than uncertain, she was scared. Lucius hesitated. He didn’t want to frighten her. She turned her head.

“I can’t,” she said so softly that he barely heard her.

Lucius pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek. “Good night, Ms. Granger.”

“Thank you for a lovely evening,” she said as Lucius walked away.

He needed to distance himself from the witch. She was enchanting him. He entertained the idea of being under a spell or potion but quickly dismissed the thought. It was Hermione Granger he was courting, not Narcissa Black.

Lucius Disapparated for home and a lonely night.

~*~

Lucius would be lying if he said that seeing Hermione’s office door standing open didn’t make him wary; obviously she had seen the paper and was waiting for him. If he was correct, and he usually was, she was going to eviscerate him. Figuratively, that is.

Somewhat prepared, Lucius strolled into the witch’s tiny office and made himself comfortable in the chair he’d transfigured the day before.

“Did you see _The Daily Prophet_ this morning?” she asked.

“I did – unfortunate situation,” Lucius replied airily. It was nothing new for the newspaper to feature his name. 

“I know that you’re behind it, Mr. Malfoy,” Hermione snapped.

“Why would you think that?” Lucius asked, attempting to sound offended.

A grin that had nothing to do with amusement curled Hermione’s lips. “I have my secrets, you have yours.”

Lucius wondered if she’d tracked down his reporter or found out some other way. The idea that she might outwit him was shockingly thrilling. Lucius shifted in his chair as he mulled the possibility. She stared at him with such righteousness that he wanted to grin; the little witch wasn’t a step ahead but if she spent any amount of time with him, she’d quickly learn.

“There’s a benefit this weekend for war veterans, would you like to accompany me?”

Hermione blinked and then crossed her arms over her chest. “Give me one reason why I should.”

Lucius smiled and casually steepled his fingers, “I understand you’re drafting legislation concerning centaur rights…”

Hermione looked down at the newspaper on her desk. Lucius could tell she was measuring her anger against the weight of his support.

Three pictures graced the society page. The first was simply of Lucius and Hermione enjoying their dinner. The next was cleverly manipulated so that they looked seconds from a kiss. The last was an outright lie – the kiss predicted by the second photograph. However, it was, undoubtedly, the headline that fanned the witch’s rage.

“THE NEW MRS. MALFOY?”

Lucius reminded himself that he wanted her to figure out he’d hired the photographer to follow them and create a fictional story of romance. He wanted Hermione to think of him in that way. He also wanted to remind her that he was capable of manipulation.

Instead of chuckling, Lucius drew a breath. “I rather enjoy your company,” he said softly.

Hermione stared at him as if attempting to see into his soul.

“You may pick me up at seven,” she finally replied.

Lucius wondered what prompted her acceptance: his bribe or his candor. And then he wondered why it mattered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you haven't read this before, you're going to KILL me. FYI, an epilogue is on the way.

Lucius choreographed the atmosphere with care. Hermione was inebriated enough to be pliable and she was unable to stop watching him. The evening was proceeding precisely as he had planned.

He led her into his study; it was close and dark even with a fire crackling in the grate. He poured each of them a glass of elf-made wine and noticed that Hermione sipped deeply from it as he slipped on a pair of reading glasses to peer at the post on his desk.

After a moment, he flashed her an apologetic smile for being comfortable enough with her in his home to glance through letters.

“You know, Lucius, I don’t think I’ve ever found you more dangerous,” the witch said, languidly setting aside her glass and ghosting her fingers over worn, leather book bindings. She peered at him through her lashes and Lucius felt his blood stir.

“Dangerous?” he repeated. Was she aware of his manipulation, after all?

“I heard you at the party, Lucius… I heard you defend me to those drunken wizards…”

Lucius frowned and Hermione smiled, moving nearer to where he stood.

“Is it your wish that I fall in love with you?” she whispered.

His gaze flashed with understanding and she stepped ever closer. Lucius set his glass aside and met her part of the way.

“I would not wish that for you,” he murmured.

“Perhaps ‘wish’ isn’t the right word… What about ‘arrange’ or ‘manipulate?’” she said with a saucy smile. When he didn’t immediately reply, she nervously nibbled her full lower lip.

She was well-aware of his scheming and still interested. Lucius took a breath and let it out, attempting to gather his thoughts. At the mention of falling in love, his mind had rather scattered.

“Despite being coerced, I did not fully appreciate the consequences of my actions as a Death Eater – I am responsible for much suffering, including yours.”

When he would have taken her hand, she moved away, retracing her steps to her wine.

“Perhaps we should have a longer conversation, Lucius,” she said, looking dubious.

“It is certainly your due,” he replied.

“I’d love to know how you keep squirming out of trouble,” she announced, polishing off her wine.

Lucius refrained from refilling her glass; he wanted her to remember his words.

“People believe what they wish. The opinions of those that matter believe me innocent. More to the point, however, is what you believe.”

The little witch summoned the decanter of wine before replying. Lucius ground his teeth in impatience; his plans could come crashing down depending on her answer.

“Voldemort made victims of us all. I do not hold you accountable for your actions as a Death Eater, Lucius. I am concerned about your actions since then. Why did you have the Prophet run that misleading story of us?”

“I wanted you to think of me...romantically,” he replied softly.

The witch blinked at him and pursed her lips as if to keep herself from saying something.

“And I wanted you to discover it...”

“You did?”

“I do not wish to deceive you.”

“I know you, Lucius. And I know what you’re capable of when you want something... Your past does not concern me as long as you see me - Muggle-borns - as equals...”

“I was a different man, Hermione. I learned what is important in life too late.”

“Well, that’s not true,” she replied. “It isn’t too late at all.”

Lucius let out a breath he’d been holding. She wasn’t angry. The little witch wasn’t going to demand explanations that he didn’t have. For the first time, Lucius realized that she might be dangerous, as well… When he captured her for a kiss, he gave her no choice and no opportunity to deny him.

~* Two Months Later *~

“Lucius?” Hermione held the door wide as Lucius, hidden under a voluminous cloak, hurried through it as if he was being chased.

“Forgive me, Hermione. I have nowhere else to go,” he hissed, spelling curtains shut and casting protective spells around the witch’s little home.

“What’s happened?” she demanded.

“Draco has accused me of murder.”

“Murder?” she repeated, looking shaken.

Lucius pushed back his hood; “If I stop seeing you, he will withdraw his accusation.”

The young witch kept calm but Lucius could see that she was struggling to grasp the concept of a son hating his father to the point of lying to have him incarcerated – or worse.

“There’s no question of that,” she said matter-of-factly. “And of course you were right to come to me – where else could you go?”

“Consider, Darling, that Draco will come after you if I am…unavailable. And this is the first place they will look for me…”

As if on cue, a tinkling sound emanated from the fireplace. Lucius knew it well; it was someone attempting to arrive through Hermione’s floo.

“Lucius, please wait. I’ll take care of this,” Hermione pleaded as she rushed to respond to the Floo.

“I shouldn’t have come here. I’ve endangered you,” he muttered, wide eyes glancing from the windows to the Floo.

Thinking quickly, Hermione cast a powerful shadow charm at Lucius and he was instantly invisible, indistinguishable from the shade of the curtains. Before he could react, the witch had opened the Floo connection and a team of Aurors, led by Potter, erupted into the tiny flat, wands drawn.

With patience learned in darker days, Lucius slowed his breathing and waited. Hermione, his dear little witch, followed them throughout their search, furious with indignation. When the Aurors failed to find him, Hermione was bound and taken away. Lucius, believing his little witch would be safe, sighed and Disapparated away.

The following morning, Lucius espied the headline of The Daily Prophet and snapped.

_“Hermione Granger’s Death Ruled Accidental”_

With a rage that electrified the very air surrounding him, a Death Eater in full regalia stormed the halls of the Ministry. Every wizard and witch idiot enough not to run and hide was ruthlessly cut down with a curse.

“POTTER!” roared Lucius.

More curses found marks as witches and wizards failed to move out of his path.

“Malfoy!” Harry Potter’s voice rang out, spelled loud.

Lucius spun to face the boy, kindling the darkest spells he knew.

“She wouldn’t want you to do this,” Potter said, moving slowly towards Lucius.

“What do you know, boy?” Lucius spat. All reason had abandoned him.

Potter finally lowered his wand. “She was my friend!”

“Damn your friends, boy. She was my salvation!”

Lucius ripped his mask from his face and looked at the bodies scattered behind him. There would be no trial. No prison. His sentence was certain. Perhaps, he would find some peace.

The Potter boy did not stop Lucius as he raised his wand to his temple and chanted one final curse.


	4. Epilogue

“Sweetheart, is something wrong?”

“I was listening through the wall, Papa,” said the little girl. Lucius took her hand and led her

“I see.”

“You told me that story when I was little,” the girl yawned.

“ _Littler_ ,” Lucius thought to himself with a smile.

“What really happened?”

Lucius lifted the girl as if she weighed nothing and settled her into bed.

“It’s not as exciting,” he said, tucking her blanket under her chin.

“But the story is about you and Mama?”

“You’ve inherited her curiosity, I see.”

“Please, Papa, I want to know what really happened.”

“The people holding your mother were her friends and they respected her. She was not killed, as you know, but she explained everything and we were both safe. …And then we were married.”

“It’s not as exciting but I like it better,” the little girl hummed, eyes already closed.

Lucius kissed her forehead and found Hermione waiting in the corridor with a stern look.

“You said I was in charge of bed time stories,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple and slipping a hand around her waist as they moved towards their bedroom.

“For that you have me murdered?” she chuckled.


End file.
